975.7L63  .    Biizal 

8^lhi  ln    '  /s  of    Lincoln 


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".America's  Qentlest,  CS^oblest  Citizen' 


In  the  Days  of  Lincoln 

GIRLHOOD    RECOLLECTIONS    AND    PERSONAL 

REMINISCENCES  OF  LIFE  IN  WASHINGTON 

DURING  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

%  ELIZABETH  K.  VINCENT 
With  a  Foreword  by  F.  RAY  RISDON 

AND   A   VERBATIM    ACCOUNT 
OF    THE 

ASSASSINATION  AND  DEATH  OF 
ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

AS   PUBLISHED    IN 

The  DAILY  MORNING  CHRONICLE 

Washington,  D.  C. 

Saturday  morning,  April  15,   1865 


GARDENA,    CALIFORNIA 

SPANISH    AMERICAN    INSTITUTE    PRESS 

19  2  4 


FOREWORD 

/^hat  a  privilege  /V  wwj/  A^i^  been  to  have 
lived  in  the  days  of  Lincoln! 

T)ays  of  romance ,  joy,  and  sorrow;  days  of 
slavery,  emancipation,  freedom;  days  of  seces- 
sion, civil  war,  and  union. 

"Days  of  service,  sacrifice,  and  suffering;  days 
of  struggle,  defeat,  and  victory;  days  of  trial, 
turmoil,  and  tragedy. 

T>ays  of  poets,  preachers,  prophets;  days  of 
patriots,  statesmen,  seers;  days  of  giant  men  of 
deeds  and  vision,  men  of  valor  and  of  honor. 

Truly,  the  heroic  age  of  American  life  and 
history ! 

To  have  witnessed  the  stirring  and  epochal 
events  through  which  our  country  was  then  pas- 
sing— perhaps  to  have  had  a  part  in  their  shaping 
— was,  indeed,  a  glorious  privilege. 

*But  a  greater,  rarer  privilege  must  have  been 
that  of  meeting,  face  to  face,  America's  greatest, 
noblest  citizen  —  A  braham  Lincoln,  —  perfect 
product  of  our  soil;  lover  of  mankind,  patriot; 
liberator,  statesman,  martyr  I 

Though  that  privilege  was  never  mine,  yet 
I  have  been  most  happy  and  truly  blest  in  the 
cultivation  of  lasting  friendships  among  the 
large  and  ever-growing  legion  of  earnest  men 
and  women  who  love  the  name  of  Lincoln,  and 

[5] 


some  of  whom,  in  days  agone,  enjoyed  the  bless- 
ed privilege  of  knowing  personally,  if  not  in- 
timately, our  First  American. 

Jlmong  the  many  friends  of  mine  who  have 
been  life-long  admirers  of  the  immortal  Lincoln, 
I  delight  to  mention  and  honor  Elizabeth  Kipp 
Vincent,  who,  in  her  early  teens,  often  saw  this 
noble  man  and  his  family,  and  who,  at  my  sug- 
gestion, has  written  out  her  recollections  of  girl- 
hood days  in  Washington,  in  order  that  others 
might  share  with  me  her  personal  impressions  of 
the  Qreat  Heart  in  the  White  House,  and  her 
reminiscences  of  life  in  the  Nationys  capital  dur- 
ing the  stirring  sixties. 

I  know  that  her  myriad  friends  and  all  Lincoln 
lovers  will  join  with  me  in  thanking  Mrs. 
Vincent  for  putting  into  permanent  form  these 
interesting  sketches  which,  after  more  than  half 
a  century,  have  all  the  color  and  the  fragrance  of 
those  days  that  will  ever  remain  a  sacred 
memory,  hallowed  and  sanctified  by  the  passing 
years. 


F.  Ray  Risdon 


Los  ^Angeles,  California 
February  1924 


[6] 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  LINCOLN 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  LINCOLN 

UST  "befo'  de  Wah"  my  family 
moved  from  New  York  State  to  Alex- 
andria County,  Virginia,  settling  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Arlington,  which 

was  the  estate  of  Robert  E.  Lee,  then  a  colonel 

in  the  United  States  Army. 

"In  Secessia" 
My  father  was  one  of  three  loyal  men  in  that 
county  who  voted  for  Abraham  Lincoln. 
Though  the  county  contained  few  large  slave- 
holding  estates,  intense  feeling  was  engendered 
over  the  question  of  slavery.  Even  the  poorer 
of  the  Southerners,  who  held  no  slaves,  were 
greatly  embittered  against  all  who  remained 
loyal  to  the  Union.  The  bitter  hate  of  some  of 
the  slave-holding  neighbors  had  resulted  in  the 
murder  of  a  Yankee  schoolmaster  in  our  vicinity. 
Because  of  the  anti-slavery  principles  which  my 
father  had  inherited  from  his  Quaker  ancestry, 
it  soon  became  apparent  that  he  was  liable  to 
receive  the  threatened  coat  of  tar  and  feathers 
were  he  to  remain  longer  in  that  community. 
The  rising  tide  of  rebellion  threatening  to  over- 
whelm him,  my  father  decided  to  take  refuge  in 
the  City  of  Washington. 

Our  new  home  had  just  been  completed j  but 
the  fine  house,  with  the  surrounding  orchards 
and  gardens  just  coming  into  bearing,  had  to  be 

[9] 


abandoned.  Loading  a  few  goods  and  chattels 
on  a  farm  wagon,  the  members  of  the  family 
took  a  last  look  at  the  home,  and  joined  the 
procession  of  Northerners  moving  toward  Wash- 
ington— most  of  them  never  to  return. 

Washington  in  '61 
In  the  city  all  was  movement  and  great  excite- 
ment -y  feeling  ran  high,  and  reason  remained 
in  the  background.  The  most  ardent  sympa- 
thizers with  the  South  were  moving  out,  and 
loyal  folk  were  moving  in.  The  majority  of 
the  old  residents  were  rebels  in  sentiment,  who 
did  not  hesitate  to  voice  their  sympathies  until 
the  presence  of  the  United  States  Army  put  a 
check  upon  their  rebellious  utterances. 

Washington,  in  the  early  sixties,  was  a  mean 
and  inferior  city,  with  little  promise  of  the 
beauty  which  now  characterizes  it.  Laid  out  on 
a  grand  scale  by  Major  L'Enfant,  in  the  time 
of  President  Washington,  it  was  yet  scarcely 
more  than  a  bare  framework,  stretching  out  its 
empty  avenues  for  miles  in  every  direction  from 
the  Capitol  j  having,  on  the  east,  the  district 
called  the  Navy  Yard,  and  Georgetown  on  the 
west,  while  the  southern  portion  (at  that  time 
not  a  very  reputable  part  of  the  city)  was  called 
"The  Island,"  because  formerly  it  had  been  cut 
off  from  the  rest  of  the  city  by  a  canal. 

The  Capitol  itself  was  not  finished — and  I 
can  not  recall  that  very  much  in  the  way  of  con- 
struction went  on  during  the  war,  the  surround- 
ing grounds  being  strewn  with  the  marble  blocks 
destined  later  to  complete  that  noble  edifice. 

[10] 


The  public  buildings, — that  is,  the  Capitol, 
the  White  House  (then  called  the  Executive 
Mansion),  the  Post  Office,  the  Patent  Office,  and, 
in  lesser  degree,  the  War  and  Navy  departments 
building, — were  grand  indeed,  and  worthy  the 
Nation's  capital  j  but  the  mile-long  stretch  from 
the  Capitol  to  the  White  House  was  just  a  string 
of  ordinary  houses  of  one,  two,  or  three  stories, 
with  a  few  second-rate  hotels  here  and  there. 

The  fashionable  stores  were  Perry's  Dry 
Goods  Store,  Gait's  Jewelry  Store,  and  Solo- 
mon's Book  Store.  A  stage  line  was  operated 
on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  from  the  Navy  Yard 
to  Georgetown,  while  dilapidated  hacks  with 
their  negro  coachmen  served  the  remainder  of 
the  town. 

Aside  from  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  few  of  the 
streets  were  paved.  With  the  coming  of  the 
thousands  of  army  wagons  they  soon  became,  in 
time  of  rain,  veritable  quagmires  in  which  these 
lumbering  vehicles  sometimes  stalled  in  spite  of 
the  four-  or  six-mule  teams  which  drew  them. 
Consequently,  rubber  boots  were  worn  by  most 
pedestrians, — ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen. 

"In  the  Midst  of  War" 
I  remember  the  coming  of  the  Northern  troops, 
the  first  of  them  receiving  temporary  quarters 
in  the  rotunda  of  the  Capitol.  Soon  the  streets 
were  filled  with  soldiers.  Drilling  by  tens  of 
thousands,  they  afterward  marched  away,  across 
Long  Bridge,  to  Virginia  and  other  Southern 
fields  of  battle. 

[in 


The  Rhode  Islanders  were  among  the  first  to 
arrive  from  the  North.  It  was  a  pastime  for  us 
to  go  up  Seventh  Street  to  their  encampment  to 
view  the  afternoon  dress-parade  of  these  favor- 
ites. Each  newly-arrived  regiment  had  its 
special  uniform,  often  very  striking, — such  as 
that  of  the  Zouaves, — which,  however,  was 
speedily  changed  for  the  uniform  blue  of  the 
great  army. 

A  line  of  forts  surrounded  the  city,  and,  alas! 
a  little  later,  a  string  of  hospitals,  also.  These 
latter  we  visited,  carrying  to  the  sick  and  the 
wounded  such  delicacies  as  were  at  our  command. 

We  were  in  the  midst  of  war.  It  seemed  that 
we  lived  years  in  as  many  days,  and  we  grew  old 
suddenly.  News  from  the  "front"  was  eagerly 
demanded.  The  cry  of  the  newsboy  was  the 
signal  for  windows  to  go  up  at  night — any  time 
of  the  night — in  response  to  his  call. 

The  great  and  the  near-great  statesmen  at 
the  capital  were  having  strenuous  times.  As  one 
of  the  clerks  of  an  important  congressional  com- 
mittee lived  at  our  house,  we  sometimes  heard, 
through  him,  that  such  and  such  a  Senator  or 
Representative  was  going  to  make  his  great 
speech  on  the  conduct  of  the  war,  our  foreign 
relations,  or  the  finances  of  the  country, — the 
latter  subject  being  a  highly  important  one  at 
that  juncture.  Forthwith  we  went,  as  visitors, 
to  the  Senate  gallery,  or  to  that  of  the  House, 
as  the  case  might  have  been,  and  there  listened 
to  speeches  regarding  events  which  have  since 
become  history. 

[12] 


"The  Central  Figure" 
To  us,  the  man  in  the  White  House,  Abraham 
Lincoln,  the  great  President,  was  the  central 
figure  in  all  those  wonderfully  interesting  and 
intensely  thrilling  events.  No  matter  if  foreign 
diplomats  were  astonished  at  his  western  sim- 
plicity, or  if  Southerners  sneered  at  "Old  Abe" 
and  his  so-called  "mudsill  government,"  or  if 
the  would-be  great  tried  to  minify  his  real  great- 
ness, our  respect  and  reverence  for  him  never 
wavered. 

We  lived  in  the  old  "Chain  House,"  semi- 
historic  as  having  been,  formerly,  the  residence 
of  the  French  Minister,  and,  afterward,  the 
headquarters  of  General  Winfield  Scott.  This 
was  just  across  the  street  from  the  New  York 
Avenue  Presbyterian  Church,  of  which  the  Rev. 
P.  D.  Gurley  was  then  pastor.  Here  the  Presi- 
dent and  his  family  worshipped  quite  regularly. 
When  his  modest  carriage  drew  up  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  church,  a  group  of  curious  or  admir- 
ing spectators  awaited  his  arrival,  and  the  church 
was  invariably  thronged.  After  his  death,  his 
pew  was  sacredly  reserved. 

I  remember  seeing  him  at  the  Anniversary  of 
the  Christian  Commission,  that  great  organiza- 
tion of  noble,  Christian  men  and  women  who  did 
so  much  for  the  soldiers.  I  have  forgotten  the 
speakers,  but  the  President  was  there  and  re- 
quested Philip  Phillips,  the  "Singing  Pilgrim," 
to  sing  a  favorite  hymn  of  Lincoln's,  the  opening 
line  of  which  was:  "If  you  can  not  on  the  ocean 
sail  among  the  swiftest  fleet" —  which  was  ren- 
dered most  beautifully. 

[13] 


Meeting  the  President 
I  saw  Lincoln  again  at  a  White  House  recep- 
tion. In  those  days  of  republican  simplicity,  the 
President's  "levee"  was  open  to  the  public;  and 
so  my  brother  and  I  availed  ourselves  of  the 
privilege  of  attending  one  of  these  functions, 
End  joined  the  long  line  of  folk  to  be  presented. 

Strange  to  relate,  our  Lady  of  the  White 
House  stood  quite  alone.  She  was  dressed  in 
white  and,  as  in  her  favorite  picture,  wore  a 
wreath  of  roses  on  her  head,  and  carried  a  bou- 
quet of  flowers  which  were  arranged  compactly, 
as  was  the  fashion  in  those  days. 

Finally  my  turn  came  to  greet  the  Chief 
Executive, — a  mountain  man  among  his  fellow- 
men! 

As  I  put  my  hand  into  the  hand  of  the  great 
President  and  looked  into  his  face,  I  caught  the 
pathos  there  apparent  and  carried  away  the 
memory  of  that  sad  and  beautiful,  though 
homely,  countenance — which  remains  with  me 
to  this  day. 

A  Childish  Exploit 
Entering  the  East  Room,  where  the  guests 
usually  collected  before  leaving,  I  was  separated 
from  my  escort  for  a  moment — and  let  me  now 
confess  to  something  which  I  have  never  told 
before! 

Passing  from  room  to  room,  until  I  came  to 
the  place  where  the  President  was  standing,  I 
shook  hands  with  him  the  second  time  that 
evening!  He  was  alone,  and  probably  on  the 
point   of   withdrawing;    nevertheless,   he  bent 

[14] 


down  his  kindly  face  and  greeted  me  as  though 
he  were  not  already  extremely  wearied  by  the 
shaking  of  so  many  hands. 

Whatever  made  me  do  it,  despite  my  natural 
timidity,  I  can  not  tell.  A  childish  exploit,  per- 
haps ;  but,  even  so,  it  must  have  been  because  I 
was  so  attracted  by  his  winning  personality,  that 
I  could  not  refrain  from  obeying  the  impulse  to 
greet  him  again. 

And  this  was  the  last  time  that  I  saw  him,  until 
I  viewed  his  silent  form  lying  in  state  in  the 
Capitol. 

The  Capital  in  Mourning 
On  the  night  of  Lincoln's  assassination, — an 
unforgettable  night! — a  friend,  who  had  been 
at  Ford's  Theatre,  ran  up  to  tell  us  that  the 
President  had  been  shot.  The  city  was  strangely 
silent,  as  though  everyone  were  holding  his  own 
breath;  the  unionists  with  horror,  the  rebels 
through  fear  of  reprisals.  For  once,  the  dis- 
loyalists were  scared  dumb. 

Very  soon,  through  the  silence,  came  the 
sound  of  galloping  guards,  sent  to  the  end  of 
every  street  to  intercept  the  murderers.  The 
next  day  the  sorrowing  residents  were  busy 
draping,  with  heavy  black,  their  homes  and 
shops,  the  stores  and  public  buildings.  A  very 
sad  lot  of  folk  we  were.  All  Washington  went 
into  deep  mourning. 

On  the  day  of  the  obsequies,  thousands  of 
people  waited  in  an  April  rain  to  get  an  oppor- 
tunity to  enter  the  White  House  for  a  last  look 
at  the  martyred  President's  face.    After  waiting 

[15] 


all  day  long,  many  were  not  able  to  gain 
entrance,  and  went  away  disappointed.  Conse- 
quently, the  catafalque  was  taken  to  the  Capitol 
the  following  day,  in  order  that  the  sorrowing 
multitudes  might  view  "the  silent  dead."  Here 
it  was  that  I  saw  the  form  of  the  great  President 
for  the  last  time. 

The  Trial  of  the  Conspirators 
After  the  apprehension  of  the  conspirators, 
I  went  to  see  the  eight  arraigned  before  the 
military  tribunal  at  the  Arsenal.  Seated  in  a  row, 
with  their  backs  against  the  wall,  they  did  not 
appear  to  be  much  concerned,  and  their  indivi- 
dual personalities  did  not  make  any  lasting 
impression  on  my  memory.  Mrs.  Surratt's  face 
I  did  not  see  j  as  a  large  soldier  was  posted  direct- 
ly in  front  of  her,  hiding  her  from  my  view. 
My  friend  and  I  did  not  stay  to  hear  any  of  the 
proceedings  j  for  we  were  glad  to  leave  the  place 
and  get  out  again  to  fresh  air  and  freedom. 

Probably  these  eight  were  not  more  guilty 
than  many  in  the  same  community  who  were 
not  arrested.  The  spirit  of  bitter  hate,  which 
burned  in  the  secessionists,  was  almost  entire- 
ly lacking — at  least  it  seemed  so  to  my  youthful 
mind — in  the  Federalist  party,  which  was  in  the 
war  from  principle  and  not  from  passion.  Yet 
even  these  "fire-eating  secessionists"  did  not 
speak  out  in  behalf  of  the  prisoners,  except  in 
the  case  of  the  woman. 

Pleasure  Excursions 
In  those  days,  it  seemed  as  though  everybody 
went  everywhere,  and  I,  too,  made  several  ex- 

[16] 


cursions  to  interesting  points. 

Among  other  sight-seeing  trips,  I  went  to  the 
Navy  Yard  to  see  the  famous  Monitor  of  Ericc- 
son  and  Captain  Worden — the  latter,  by  the  way, 
being  distantly  connected  with  my  family  by 
marriage.  Someone  had  called  this  odd  craft 
"a  cheese -box  on  an  iron  raft,"  but  it  was  really 
a  notable  bit  of  iron  which  had  wrought  wonders 
for  our  cause. 

Then,  too,  I  had  the  privilege  of  going  to 
Richmond,  at  the  invitation  of  a  cousin  who 
lived  in  that  city,  very  soon  after  the  visit  of 
President  Lincoln.  This  beautiful  city  showed 
much  of  the  awful  effects  of  war.  I  can  see  yet 
the  blackened  ruins  of  buildings  which  had  been 
fired  by  the  retreating  rebels. 

While  in  Richmond,  I  looked  down  on  Belle 
Isle,  the  scene  of  the  terrible  sufferings  of  thou- 
sands of  starving  and  sick  Union  prisoners.  I 
went  to  Libby  prison,  so  lately  tenanted  by 
other  hundreds  of  weary  prisoners, — the  place 
made  memorable  by  Chaplain  C.  C.  McCabe. 
Here  I  saw  what,  without  doubt,  it  was  not  in- 
tended that  I  should  see — a  soldier  being  pun- 
ished by  hanging  him  up  by  the  thumbs!  After 
hearing  Chaplain  McCabe  lecture,  one  could 
repeople  that  prison  and  re-enact  the  distressing 
scenes  that  took  place  there. 

But  what  interested  me  most,  of  all  that  1 
saw  and  heard  in  Richmond,  was  my  experience 
at  the  great  negro  church  where  "Uncle  John" 
Vassar  was  talking  to  the  black  people.  An 
indescribable  impression,  a  wonderful  emotion, 

[17] 


was  created  by  the  quiet  talk  of  that  holy  man, 
that  caused  tears  to  flow  in  abundance.  Here 
was  the  real  and  visible  result  of  the  years  of 
strife,  the  black  man  now  out  of  slavery  and 
looking  confidingly  to  the  white  man  to  be 
taught. 

Among  the  Colored  Folk 

During  reconstruction  days,  and  even  before, 
contraband  negroes  gathered  by  the  thousands 
in  Washington — a  helpless  but  very  manageable 
and  orderly  people.  Barracks  were  put  up  by 
the  Government  for  them  to  occupy,  and  schools 
and  churches  were  opened  for  their  benefit  and 
use. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  teaching  a  class  of  negro 
girls  in  the  large  Sunday  school  organized  among 
these  contrabands  by  that  sincere  Christian  sol- 
dier, General  O.  O.  Howard  ;  but  I  have  to 
confess,  that,  notwithstanding  my  interest  in 
them,  I  was  never  able  to  tell  which  one  was 
Blanche  and  which  one  Violet,  in  the  row  of 
dusky  maidens  who  sat  on  the  bench  before  me. 

I  attended  the  first  Commencement  at  How- 
ard University,  an  institution  for  colored  youths, 
and  marvelled  at  the  learning  exhibited  by  the 
big  black  fellows  who  there  got  their  first  taste 
of  education. 

The  Return  of  Sherman's  Army 

The  great  day  came  when  Sherman's  army 
arrived  from  the  South  to  be  mustered  out.  That 
was  a  wonderful  procession  which  passed  up 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  to  be  reviewed  by  officials 

[18] 


of  the  Nation,  who  were  assembled  in  the  grand- 
stand near  the  Executive  Mansion. 

These  worn  but  happy  veterans,  in  their  rag- 
ged uniforms  and  with  battered  accouterments, 
bearing  aloft  with  pride  their  tattered  battle- 
flags  and  exhibiting  their  many  mascots  and 
trophies  of  war,  were  a  most  glorious  spectacle! 
The  Review  was,  indeed,  a  most  thrilling  sight 
to  behold. 

Seated  upon  his  magnificent  charger,  General 
Sherman  appeared  to  be  quite  thin  and  bronzed, 
and  decidedly  grim.  A  venturesome  woman 
had  succeeded  in  flinging  a  wreath  of  flowers 
around  the  neck  of  his  horse.  Perhaps  that 
was  one  reason  why  the  General  appeared  to  be 
so  stern!  Needless  to  say,  General  Sherman, 
as  well  as  each  other  notable  leader  present,  re- 
ceived the  ovation  due  him. 

This  was  the  climax  and  the  finale  of  our 
terrible  civil  war. 

Washington,  After  the  War 

Washington  now  began  to  take  breath  and 
to  live  its  normal  life  once  more.  Civic  affairs 
resumed  their  pre-war  course.  The  poor, 
battered  town  gradually  came  into  its  own  and 
began  to  fulfill  the  early  promise  of  becoming 
"a  city  of  magnificent  distances,"  filled  with 
stately  residences  and  most  imposing  buildings, 
adorned  with  parks  and  fountains  and  memorial 
statues,  and  possessing  all  that  goes  to  make  a 

[19] 


fair  and  worthy  seat  for  the  Government  of  a 
great  nation. 

A  Personal  Tribute  to  Lincoln 
Other    great    men    may    occupy    the    White 
House,  and  other  Stantons  and  Sewards  may  sit 
in  council  in  the  Capitol  of    the    Nation — but 
there  will  be  no  more  Abraham  Lincolns. 

The  man  whom  God  raised  up  to  carry  the 
Nation  through  those  perilous  times  never  will 
be  duplicated! 

We  do  not  need  to  idealize  him;  we  have  only 
to  note  his  unswerving  devotion  to  his  high 
purpose  under  the  most  trying  circumstances, 
and  his  simple  fidelity  to  duty  and  to  his  ideals, 
to  recognize  that,  indeed,  he  was  a  most  unique 
and  outstanding  character, — not  only  a  patriot, 
but  truly  God's  man! 


[20] 


ASSASSINATION  AND  DEATH  OF 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


A  Contemporaneous  Verbatim  Account 
of  the 

ASSASSINATION  AND  DEATH  OF 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


AND    OFFICIAL    BULLETINS 
PUBLISHED   IN 

The  DAILY  MORNING  CHRONICLE, 
Washington,  D.  C. 

Saturday  morning,  April    15,    1865 

(Vol.  Ill,  No.  140) 


MURDER  OF  PRESIDENT    LINCOLN 

ATTEMPT  TO  ASSASSINATE  THE 

SECRETARY   OF   STATE 

MANNER  OF  ASSASSINATION 

Safety  of  Other  Members  of  the  Cabinet 
Description  of  the  Assassin 

The  Police  Investigation 
The  Surgeons'  Latest  Reports 


The  Scene  at  the  Theatre 

jT  half  past  ten  o'clock  last  night,  in 
the  front  upper  left-hand  private  box 
in  Ford's  Theatre,  while  the  second 
scene  of  the  third  act  of  "Our  Ameri- 
can Cousin"  was  being  played,  a  pistol  was  fired, 
and  Abraham  Lincoln  shot  through  the  neck  and 
lower  part  of  the  head.  A  second  after  the  shot 
was  fired,  a  man  vaulted  over  the  baluster  of  the 
box,  saying,  "Sic  semper  tyrannis!"  and,  adding 
another  sentence,  which  closed  with  the  words, 
"revenge  for  the  South,"  ran  across  the  stage 
with  a  gleaming  knife,  double-edged  and 
straight,  in  his  right  hand.  The  man  was  of  mid- 
dle stature,  well-built,  white-faced  and  beard- 
less, save  that  he  wore  a  black  moustache.  His 
hair  and  eyes  were  black. 

The  crowd  ascended  the  stage;  the  actresses, 
pale  beneath  their  rouge,  ran  wildly  about.  Miss 
Keene,  whose  benefit  night  it  was,  came  forward, 
endeavoring  to  quiet  the  audience.  Several 
gentlemen  climbed  to  the  box,  and  finally  the 
audience  were  ordered  out  by  some  gentlemen. 

[25] 


Mrs.  Lincoln,  Miss  Harris  and  Major  Rath- 
burn  (Rat hi? one)  were  in  the  box  with  the  Pres- 
ident. 

The  Murderous  Attempt  at 
Secretary  Seward's 

The  report  of  an  assassination  attempted  upon 
Secretary  Seward  having  reached  this  office,  we 
set  out  for  the  Secretary's  house,  and  there  found 
that  he  too  had  been  assaulted.  We  learned 
also  that  at  ten  o'clock,  just  as  the  man  in  charge 
of  Lafayette  Square  called  out  that  the  gates 
were  closed,  a  man  made  his  way  into  Secretary 
Seward's  house,  representing  that  he  was  the 
bearer  of  a  medicine  prescribed  by  Surgeon  Gen- 
eral Barnes,  and  which  he  was  ordered  to  deliver 
to  Secretary  Seward  in  person. 

Pushing  into  the  Secretary's  room,  he  seized 
the  old,  suffering  statesman  with  one  hand,  and 
cut  him  with  a  dagger-knife  on  both  jaws,  then 
turned  and  forced  his  way  into  the  hall,  where 
meeting  with  Frederick  Seward,  the  Secretary's 
son,  he  attacked  him,  and  inflicted  three  wounds 
with  a  dagger-knife  (probably  the  same)  on  the 
young  man's  head,  breast,  and  hand.  He  also 
attacked  Major  Clarence  Seward,  another  son 
of  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  inflicted  upon  him 
several  serious  wounds. 

The  assassin  then  rushed  out,  mounted  a  bay 
horse,  with  light  mane,  and  rode  off,  not  at  a 
gallop,  but  at  what  is  called  a  "pace." 

Doctors  Barnes,  Norris,  and  Nutson  were  soon 
in  attendance,  and  did  all  in  their  power  for  the 
sufferers. 

[26] 


Secretary  Seward  was  able  to  speak  and  swal- 
low, but  both  caused  him  much  pain,  though  none 
of  the  arteries  of  the  throat  were  cut.  The  doctors 
all  agreed  that  the  Secretary  was  in  no  immediate 
danger  of  losing  his  life. 

Secretaries  Stanton  and  Welles,  as  soon  as  they 
learned  the  solemn  news,  repaired  to  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Seward,  and  also  to  the  bedside  of 
the  President. 

This  being  all  we  could  there  ascertain,  we 
went  in  search  of  the  Vice  President,  and  found 
he  was  safe  in  his  appartments  at  the  Kirkwood. 
We  called  at  Chief  Justice  Chase's  and  learned 
there,  that  he  too  was  safe.  Secretaries  Stanton, 
Welles,  and  Usher,  as  also  Vice  President 
Johnson,  and  other  members  of  the  Cabinet, 
were  with  the  President. 

Guards  were  found  by  us  at  the  residences  of 
Chief  Justice  Chase,  Secretary  Usher,  Vice  Pres- 
ident Johnson,  and  Secretary  Stanton,  and  we 
were  gratified  to  be  able  to  announce  that  all 
members  of  the  Cabinet,  save  Mr.  Seward,  are 
unharmed. 

Traces  of  the  Assassin  of  the  President 
We  then  ascertained  that  the  police  were  on 
the  track  of  the  President's  assassin,  and  found 
that  a  variety  of  evidences,  all  pointing  one  way, 
would  in  all  probability  justify  the  arrest  of  a 
character  well  known  throughout  the  cities  of 
the  United  States.  Evidence  taken  amid  such 
excitement  would,  perhaps,  not  justify  us  in 
naming  the  suspected  man,  nor  could  it  aid  in 
his  apprehension.     A  number  of  persons  have 

[27] 


been  arrested  who,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  able  to 
identify  him.  The  assassin  left  behind  him  his 
hat,  a  spur,  and  a  horror  and  gloom  never 
equalled  in  this  country. 

The  hat  was  picked  up  in  the  President's  box; 
and,  since  we  began  this  statement,  has  been 
identified  by  parties  to  whom  it  has  been  shown, 
and  accurately  described  as  the  one  belonging  to 
the  suspected  man,  by  other  parties  not  allowed 
to  see  it  ere  describing  it. 

The  spur  was  dropped  upon  the  stage,  and 
that  also  has  been  identified  as  the  one  procured 
at  a  stable  where  the  same  man  procured  a  horse 
in  the  evening.  The  horse  so  obtained  was  a 
dark  bay,  which  was  also  the  color  of  that  mount- 
ed at  the  stage  door  of  the  theatre  by  the  flying 
assassin.  The  horse,  up  to  the  hour  of  2  a.m., 
had  not  been  returned  to  the  stable ;  has  been 
seen  riderless,  with  English  saddle  and  plain 
stirrups,  roaming  the  streets,  but  escaped  from 
pursuit. 

The  Condition  of  the  President 
At  2:15  a.m.,  we  hear  that  the  wound  of  the 
President  is  very  highly  dangerous.  The  ball 
entered  three  inches  below  the  left  ear,  and 
behind  it  a  little,  just  beneath  the  base  of  the 
brain,  took  an  upward  direction,  lodging  in  the 
brain,  where  it  can  be  felt  by  the  surgeons,  but 
whence  they  cannot  dislodge  it. 

An  Attack  Upon  Secretary  Stanton 

Thwarted 
Two   gentlemen   who   went   to   apprise   the 
Secretary  of  War  of  the  attack  on  Mr.  Lincoln, 

[28] 


met,  at  the  residence  of  the  former,  a  man 
muffled  in  a  cloak,  who,  when  accosted  by  them, 
hastened  away  without  a  word.  It  had  been  the 
Secretary's  intention  to  accompany  Mr.  Lincoln 
and  occupy  the  same  box,  but  pressing  business 
prevented. 

It,  therefore,  is  evident,  that  the  aim  of  the 
plotters  was  to  paralyze  the  country  by  at  once 
striking  down  the  head,  the  heart,  and  the  arm 
of  the  country. 

General  Grant  arrived  safely  at  Philadelphia. 

The  Popular  Commotion 
The  whole  city  was  moved.  The  crowds  that 
poured  through  the  streets  gathered  in  numbers 
on  the  corners  adjacent  to  the  residences  of  the 
various  members  of  the  Cabinet ;  but  the  greatest 
and  most  excited  gatherings  were  on  E  and 
Tenth  streets,  in  the  vicinity  of  Mr.  Peterson's 
house,  opposite  Ford's  Theatre,  to  which  the 
President  was  removed.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  at- 
tended by  Surgeons  Hall,  Stone,  Ford,  May, 
Leiberman,  King,  Surgeon  General  Barnes,  Drs. 
Crane,  Taft,  Leak,  Getz,  McMillan,  Abbott 
and  Buckler. 

They  Have  Slain  Their  Best  Friend 
Comment  on  this  deed  now  were  worse  than 
useless,  were  it  even  possible  to  us  with  our 
present  feelings.  The  perpetrators  of  the  deed 
stand  (we  hope  we  are  not  profane)  like  Judas 
Iscariot — in  this  j  that  they  have  stricken  down 
the  Man  who  stood  forth  their  best  intercessor 
before  the  nation  and  the  laws  they  had  raised 

[29] 


their  impious  hands  to  slay  by  unprovoked  re- 
bellion. Their  only  shield,  their  truest,  most 
forgiving  friend,  he  who  plead  with  his  people 
to  temper  justice  with  mercy — him  have  they 
slain.    And  who  can  now  tell  the  consequences? 

Police  Headquarters 
No  sooner  had  the  dreadful  event  been  an- 
nounced in  the  street,  than  Superintendent 
Richards  and  his  assistants  were  at  work  to  dis- 
cover the  assassins.  In  a  few  moments  the 
telegraph  had  aroused  the  whole  police  force  of 
the  city.  Mayor  Wallach,  and  several  members 
of  the  city  government  were  soon  on  the  spot. 
Every  measure  of  precaution  was  taken  to  pre- 
serve order  in  the  city,  and  every  street  was 
patrolled.  At  the  request  of  Mr.  Richards, 
General  Augur  sent  horses  to  mount  the  police. 
Every  road  out  of  Washington  was  picketed, 
and  every  possible  avenue  of  escape  thoroughly 
guarded.  Steamboats  about  to  depart  down  the 
Potomac  were  stopped. 

As  it  is  suspected  that  this  conspiracy  originat- 
ed in  Maryland,  the  telegraph  flashed  the 
mournful  news  to  Baltimore,  and  all  the  cavalry 
was  immediately  put  upon  active  duty.  Every 
road  was  picketed,  and  every  precaution  taken 
to  prevent  the  escape  of  the  assassins. 

A  preliminary  examination  was  made  by  Mr. 
Richards  and  his  assistants.  Several  persons  were 
called  upon  to  testify,  and  the  evidence,  as 
elicited  before  an  informal  tribunal,  and  not 
under  oath,  was  conclusive  to  this  point:  the 
murderer  of  President  Lincoln  was  John  Wilkes 

[30] 


Booth.  His  hat  was  found  in  the  private  box, 
and  identified  by  several  persons  who  had  seen 
him  within  the  last  two  days,  and  the  spur  which 
he  dropped  by  accident,  after  he  jumped  to  the 
stage,  was  identified  as  one  of  those  which  he 
obtained  from  the  stable  where  he  hired  his 
horse. 

This  man  Booth  has  played  more  than  once  at 
Ford's  Theatre,  and  is,  of  course,  acquainted 
with  its  exits  and  entrances,  and  the  facility  with 
which  he  escaped  behind  the  scenes  is  easily 
understood.  He  is  the  son  of  Junius  Brutus 
Booth,  the  renowned  actor,  and  has,  like  one  of 
his  brothers,  in  vain  attempted  to  gain  a  reputa- 
tion on  the  stage.  His  father  was  an  English- 
man, and  he  was  born  in  Baltimore.  He  has 
long  been  a  man  of  intemperate  habits  and 
subject  to  temporary  fits  of  great  excitement. 
His  capture  is  certain,  but  if  he  is  true  to  his 
nature  he  will  commit  suicide,  and  thus  appro- 
priately end  his  career. 

Further  Items  Respecting  the  Assassin 
As  everything  that  tends  to  throw  light  upon 
the  matter  is  of  interest,  we  think  it  well  to  add, 
that  last  evening  a  dark  roan  horse  was  hired 
at  Thompson's  stable,  on  the  corner  of  E  and 
Thirteenth  streets,  at  about  ten  minutes  after 
ten  o'clock.  The  horse  had  a  black  English 
saddle  and  ordinary  stirrups.  The  man  who 
hired  him  was  dressed  in  black,  and  was  some 
five  feet  six  inches  in  height.  When  asked  when 
he  would  return,  he  said,  "Probably  in  two  hours, 
perhaps  never."     He  wore  a  black  moustache 

[31] 


and  goatee.  One  of  the  stable  boys  followed 
him,  but  lost  sight  of  him  on  Tenth  street. 

After  hearing  of  the  assassinations,  the  same 
stable  boy  rushed  to  the  Navy  yard,  thinking  to 
head  the  man  and  horse  off,  should  he  prove 
the  criminal,  but  learned  that  the  man  and  horse 
he  described  had  passed  over  the  bridge  some 
time  before  j  and  being  told  that  if  he  followed 
he  would  not  be  allowed  back  over  the  bridge, 
he  followed  no  further,  but  returned. 

It  will  be  seen,  by  referring  to  another  column, 
that  General  C.  C.  Augur,  provost  marshal  of 
the  Department  of  Washington,  offers  a  reward 
of  ten  thousand  dollars  to  the  party  or  parties 
who  will  arrest  the  person  or  persons  who  assas- 
sinated the  President,  Mr.  Lincoln,  the  Secretary 
of  the  State,  Mr.  Seward,  and  his  son. 

The  person  who  assassinated  Secretary  Seward 
left  behind  him  a  slouched  hat  and  an  old,  rusty 
navy  revolver.  The  chambers  were  broken 
loose  from  the  barrel,  as  if  done  by  striking.  The 
loads  were  drawn  from  the  chambers,  one  being 
but  a  rough  piece  of  lead,  and  the  others  balls 
smaller  than  the  chambers, — wrapped  in  paper, 
as  if  to  keep  them  from  falling  out. 


[32] 


Assassination    of    President    Lincoln, 

Secretary  Wm.   H.   Seward,  and 

Assistant   Secretary   F.  W. 

Seward! 

(an  editorial) 

It  is  with  feelings  of  profound  horror,  sorrow, 
and  indignation,  that  we  are  called  upon  to 
announce  to  the  country  one  of  the  most  terrible 
tragedies  of  which  history  affords  an  example. 
At  about  half-past  ten  o'clock  last  evening  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  was  assassinated  in  Ford's  Theatre, 
in  Tenth  street,  between  E  and  F,  while  quietly 
looking  at  the  performance,  all  unconscious  of 
danger.  He  occupied,  in  company  with  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  and  her  friend,  Miss  Harris,  the  private 
box  in  the  second  tier,  on  the  right. 

The  location  of  the  wound  on  the  skull,  which 
was  inflicted  by  a  pistol  ball,  shows  clearly  that 
the  President  sat  at  the  moment  with  his  face  to 
the  stage,  and  that  he  had  no  intimation  of  the 
approach  of  the  monster  traitor  who  has  robbed 
the  country  of  its  most  precious  life.  The  ball 
entered  about  three  inches  from  the  opening  of 
the  left  ear,  in  the  cerebellum,  or  lower  half  of 
the  head,  and  penetrated  several  inches  into  the 
brain.  The  President  immediately  fell  forward, 
and  the  villain  at  the  same  moment  leaped  over 
the  railing  upon  the  stage.  He  fell  to  the  floor, 
but  rose,  ran  to  the  rear  of  the  stage  and  disap- 
peared, brandishing  a  large  knife  and  exclaiming, 
"The  South  is  avenged!  Sic  semper  tyrannis!" 
The  amazement  and  horror  of  the  audience  were 
so  great  as  to  destroy  all  presence  of  mind,  and 
the  wretch  escaped  for  the  time  by  the  back  door. 

[33] 


The  President,  in  a  completely  unconscious 
condition,  was  after  a  few  minutes  removed  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  placed  in  the 
comfortable  house  of  Mr.  Peterson,  No.  453. 
He  occupies  the  neat  little  bed-room  in  the  back 
building,  first  floor,  where  he  must  in  a  few 
hours  breathe  his  last. 

Every  aid  which  surgical  and  medical  skill 
could  supply  was  immediately  given,  but  to  no 
purpose.  It  was  our  melancholy  privilege  to  see 
the  great  and  good  heart  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
slowly  giving  up  its  life-blood,  his  heart-broken 
wife  kneeling  by  his  bedside,  which  was  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  members  of  the  Cabinet, 
except  Mr.  Seward,  as  well  as  by  other  dis- 
tinguished friends.  Among  the  latter  were 
Senator  Sumner,  Speaker  Colfax,  General  Au- 
gur, General  Meigs,  General  Farnsworth,  of 
the  House  of  Representatives,  and  others. 

Thus  has  the  day  which  was  set  apart  as  a  day 
of  rejoicing  been  turned  into  a  day  of  mourning 
by  one  of  those  astounding  exhibitions  of  desper- 
ate wickedness  of  which  history,  at  long  inter- 
vals, has  given  examples.  Language  would  fail 
us  in  the  attempt  to  portray  the  mingled  anguish, 
horror,  and  indignation  which  pervades  this 
community. 

But  we  may  say,  in  brief,  at  this  late  hour  that 
treason  has  culminated  in  crime  in  the  murder  of 
President  Lincoln,  and  that  since  the  14th  day 
of  April,  1861,  when  Fort  Sumter  was  fired 
upon,  nothing  has  occurred  so  calculated  to  ex- 
asperate the  loyal  millions,  and  cause  them  to 

[34] 


demand  vengeance  upon  the  authors  of  the 
rebellion. 

It  is  now  five  o'clock,  as  we  write,  and  we  find 
it  indispensable  to  close  these  remarks  with  only 
a  brief  reference  to  the  contemporaneous  effort 
to  murder  Secretary  Seward,  and  his  son,  F.  W. 
Seward.  It  is  not  yet  ascertained  whether  the 
murderous  assault  upon  these  gentlemen  was 
made  by  the  same  desperate  wretch  who  assassin- 
ated the  President.  It  is  probable,  however,  that 
there  were  confederates,  and  that  other  dis- 
tinguished gentlemen  only  escaped  by  accident. 

A  strong  suspicion  was  fixed  upon  J.  Wilkes 
Booth,  an  inferior  actor,  and  the  son  of  the  old 
tragedian  of  that  name,  as  the  murderer  of  the 
President.  But  for  particulars  we  must  refer 
the  reader  to  our  local  columns. 

P.  S. — A  letter  found  in  Booth's  trunk  identi- 
fies him  as  the  murderer. 


Chronicle  Office, 

April  15 — 6  a.m. 
The  President  is  still  alive,  but  is  sinking 
rapidly.    He  cannot  survive  much  longer.    No 
change  in  the  condition  of  Mr.  Seward. 


[35] 


15,  1865. 


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DEATH  OF 

III  F1IKI! 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  18  DEAD ! 

If  tears  had  audible  language,  a  shriek 
would  go  up  from  these  States  which 
would  startle  the  world  from  its  propriety. 

Strocg  men  use  the  impressive  lauguag* 
Of  women— -tb  ass.  Women  bow  their 
heads  in  the  dust  Children  sleep  trou- 
bledlv. 

Words  are  at  this  time  weak  and  vain. 
Let  us  aH,  Witfr  heart  and  voce,  say  that 

"  This  Gravb 

acAM..*Av»  altvtnx*  monument  \» 


€M? 


H 

APP 
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Ta 

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first 
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THIS  EDITION  LIMITED  TO  250  COPIES 
THE  FIRST  ONE  HUNDRED  OF  WHICH 
HAVE  BEEN  NUMBERED  AND  AUTO- 
GRAPHED BY  THE  AUTHOR 


-     . 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 
973  7L63B2V74I  C001 

IN  THE  DAYS  OF  LINCOLN  GARDENA 


3  0112  031795922 


